A Very Hobbit Christmas
by Sixty-four K
Summary: As Bilbo, Thorin and the party of dwarves wander through the forest of Mirkwood, they reminisce about Christmases of old. Little do they know that a Christmas party lies just around the corner. The elves of Mirkwood take their Christmas parties very seriously, however. Will they bend so far as to invite a party of dwarves to partake in some elven Yultide cheer? Part 12 of the FFCC.


_Merry Christmas, my lovelies! Today is Christmas Eve, and I have the honour of concluding the Fan Fiction Christmas Countdown. Thank you very much to everyone who has been following this event! In case you haven't been followiing it, though, let me explain. For the last twelve days before Christmas, twelve different authors have written a Christmas-themed story to celebrate the season. They are all slightly connected; most of us have included a reference to The Twelve Days of Christmas song. If you would like to follow the event from the beginning, please head on over to Pip the Dark Lord of All's profile page, and read her_ _Star Trek story,_ **Carolling Aboard the** **Enterprise** _. Yesterday's story can be found on LadyLindariel's profile page; a Lord of the Rings story, called_ **Because You Can't Have Yule Without a Mishap**. _Although, canonically, people in J.R.R. Tolkien's world did not celebrate Christmas, they do in this story, because it is an alternate universe._

 _Now, please go on, read, review, and then go back and enjoy those other stories! Merry Christmas, everyone!_

* * *

 _In the off-chance that you are not familiar with this fandom, I have included the following **Character List:**_

 _ **Bilbo Baggins** : A hobbit from The Shire. Was reluctantly dragged along on a quest to slay a dragon. Is very sensible._

 _ **Thorin Oakenshield** : The majestic Prince of Dwarves. Eager to slay the dragon who has taken over his kingdom, the Lonely Mountain, or Erebor. Hates elves._

 _ **Dwarves** : **Thorin's** companions on his quest. There are thirteen of them altogether, including **Thorin**. The ones named in this story are **Balin** , **Fili** and **Kili.**_

 _ **Thranduil** : The Fabulous Elvenking of Mirkwood. Loves parties and hates dwarves. Also known as The Party-King of Mirkwood._

 _ **Legolas** : **Thranduil's** son. An elven warrior. Not as fabulous as his father._

 _ **Tauriel** : The "captain of the guards". Really more of an adopted daughter to **Thranduil**. Young and happy-go-lucky._

 _ **Feren** : Messenger to **Thranduil**. Mirkwood's official con-man. Is fairly cynical._

 _ **Meludir** and **Lethuin** : Servants of **Thranduil**. Very important characters, but receive no speaking lines in this story. **Lethuin** is a hunter, and **Meludir**_ is a physician.

 _ **Galion** : **Thranduil's** butler. Works extremely hard for and is extremely loyal to_ **_Thranduil_**. _Is overly emotional at times, much to his displeasure._

 _ **Elros the Guard** : One of **Thranduil's** guards. Is very hard-working. Believes that he is Lord Elrond of Rivendell's brother._

* * *

"We are lost. Indubitably and undoubtedly lost. Confusticate and bebother you, Thorin! I told you to stay on the path."

Thorin rolled his eyes. Bilbo's constant nagging was beginning to drive him mad. It wasn't his fault that the company had wandered off of the Forest Road! They were hungry, and, to a dwarf, to be hungry is to be insane.

"To make matters worse," continued Bilbo irately, "it's snowing. And, if my memory serves me correctly, when it snows, Christmastime is near. And when Christmastime is near, I want to be inside, enjoying myself in front of a hot fire, a hot cup of apple cider in one hand, and a plate of something hot in the other. Maybe bacon. A plate of hot, crispy, delicious bacon. And I would be alone and comfortable in my house. My own house, the door locked, presents that I wrapped for myself under the tree. That's what I should be doing right now!" he said, voice rising in intensity. "I should be celebrating Christmas on my own, having fun!"

Thorin snorted. "What a way to celebrate Christmas! Food and fire are for weaklings. Why," he began, his eyes growing misty, "back in Erebor…"

The other members of the company sighed, some in nostalgic reverie along with Thorin, others annoyed at the idea of another "back in Erebor" rant.

"Back in Erebor," continued Thorin, "we used to have grand old times at Christmas. We'd compete in manly events, such as caber tossing, eating contests, and wrestling. We'd also have contests about who had the best beard. I always won, of course. Then, after we had had our fill of contests, we danced around the giant fire in the Great Hall until morning light."

"But I thought that you said that food and fire were for weaklings," protested Bilbo. "Most of your festivities were focused around those things!"

Thorin sniffed majestically, flipping his hair in contempt. "It's not for weaklings if you use it correctly."

"I'm afraid that we'll all become weaklings if we don't get some food and fire soon," said Balin, always the voice of reason. "The rest of the company is losing stamina quickly."

"Indeed," said Thorin. "Your counsel is wise, Balin, as always. Let us seek out shelter with all due haste."

Thorin led the way as the company continued to blunder deeper and deeper into the cold, dark wood. The dwarves became increasingly delusional as their strength was drained away by the cold. Suddenly, Thorin jumped. "Light! I see light!" he exclaimed.

"And where there's light, there's fire," said Fili, in a flash of brilliance.

The company, like moths to a flame, groped blindly towards the glow before them.

* * *

"How am I supposed to prepare for the Christmas party when you're dancing around like a fool?"

Thranduil pressed a button on his remote. The disco ball retracted into the ceiling, the strobe lights turned off, and the confetti and glitter ceased to rain from the heavens. The Elvenking of Mirkwood glared at Galion. "Fool? Excuse me. I'm not the one who _doesn't_ look fabulous."

Galion facepalmed. "Please. Please just be sensible. Think about this logically. When you have your default party supplies already on the go, how can I prepare for the Christmas party? Your regular party supplies are already in the way, making it impossible for me to prepare!"

"I suppose that I see your point," said Thranduil reluctantly. "But this is my palace, you know. Where else am I supposed to go?"

Galion tossed a winter coat and boots at Thranduil. "Go play outside. Build a snowman. Whatever you like. Take Legolas and Tauriel with you, if you like, and then you can have a snowball fight, if you so desire."

"Splendid idea!" said Thranduil. "I'm so glad that I thought of going outside, so you won't start control-freaking around the palace."

Galion rolled his eyes. "Yes, my king. You come up with the most brilliant ideas."

* * *

"This was the best idea ever, Ada!" said Legolas, rolling a gigantic snowball. He stacked it on top of a gargantuan snowball, which Tauriel was standing beside. "I haven't gotten to play outside with you since… since forever!"

"Yeah," said Tauriel, nodding her head vigorously. "Since forever." She stuck a twig into the top snowball. "I just wish that Galion gave us some better things to decorate our snowman with," she said regretfully. "All he gave us were a few pieces of coal!"

Thranduil shivered miserably, despite the fact that he was sitting in front of a fire, drinking hot chocolate. " _I'm_ not having any fun whatsoever," he said, pouting. "But I suppose that I'm glad that you are," he added indulgently. "But only coal? Galion is getting stingier every year."

"Maybe I'll go and ask him for some more things to use," said Tauriel. "Legolas doesn't know how to ask properly, so I'll do it."

With that, the elf maiden skipped away, heading back through the forest towards the palace.

* * *

"Thorin, do you really think that running towards a fire is the best course of action?" shouted Bilbo, who had fallen behind the main party.

"Of course it is," said Thorin, looking over his shoulder at the huffing and puffing Bilbo. It is not a good thing, however, to look behind you while you are running. You are liable to run into things, such as merry elf-maids who skip happily through the woods.

Thorin noticed Tauriel just in time, and skidded to a stop. The other dwarves, who had been following right on his heels, did not notice, and, running into Thorin, fell like dominos. Tauriel beamed down at the pile of dwarves on the ground. "Ooh, dwarves!" she squealed. "You're all so cute!"

Thorin glared up at the elf-maid. "I, Thorin Oakenshield, am Majestic. Not Cute. I will not have an _elf_ address me as such."

Balin laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hush, Thorin. We are in the elves' wood, after all, and they deserve our respect for that, if nothing else. How would you like it if you found a party of elves creeping through the Lonely Mountain?"

Thorin growled. "I would not stand for it! Those miserable elves have no right to my precious Arkenstone!"

Bilbo winced at hearing the words "my precious", but wasn't sufficiently disturbed to be kept silent. "Do you have any food or fire that you might share with us?" he asked Tauriel. "We're quite cold and hungry."

Tauriel tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know… where would we find food enough for fourteen?" Then, her eyes lit up. "Wait! Galion is having a Christmas party at the palace. There's always plenty of food there; why don't you come and celebrate Christmas with us?"

"I will not celebrate Christmas among _elves_!" spat Thorin.

"Oh, shut up," said Bilbo. "I want to. Remember how nice it was at Rivendell? Staying with these elves will be a far sight better than shivering out here in the forest."

"Your face can shut up," said Thorin.

"No, yours can," said the rest of the dwarves. "We want food!"

Overwhelmed at the sheer volume of every dwarf in the party saying the same thing at once, Thorin grudgingly gave in. "We'll only stay as long as necessary," he muttered.

"Oh, goody!" squealed Tauriel. "Let's bring you to the palace then."

* * *

"What, may I ask, is _this_."

Tauriel stared with astonishment at Galion's grim face, which had suddenly grown deathly pale. "Why, it's guests for the party, Galion! I thought that you would be happy to have more people at your party."

Galion paced around the room, circling Tauriel, Bilbo, and the dwarves. "Happy?" he asked, incredulous. "Happy? Why, nothing could be further from the truth. Fourteen surplus guests… why, this is a disaster!"

"Why?" asked Tauriel.

"Because," said Galion, looking Tauriel steadily in the eye, "it does havoc to my Party Algorithm. It only allows for a surplus of ten guests. That was a shortcoming on my part, I admit, but I haven't had the time to devise another algorithm. With fourteen guests, everything will fall into ruin. Everything depends on the algorithm, you see, and it depends on everything else. Room space, food, number of guests. And this… this will bring it all to ruin." He fell to the ground. "I… I've failed you all. I'll never forgive myself."

"Aw, it's alright, Galion," said Tauriel, laying a hand on the shaking butler's shoulder. "There's always leftovers after the party, anyway, so I think that there should be enough food."

"B-b-but, I worked that into the equation," said Galion, voice shaking. "It's so I don't have to cook anything the next day, because I'm so tired after a party…"

The dwarves stood awkwardly as Tauriel dropped to the ground and let Galion sob into her shoulder. She looked up towards the party. "Go and tell the Elvenking that you're here," she whispered. "He's out front near the fire."

"Well, come on, then," said Bilbo. "Best give our respects to the Elvenking." He felt rather sorry for the butler; he knew all too well how it felt to have unexpected guests arrive.

The party tramped out of the halls, back out into the open air. Bilbo led the way, anxious to meet the Elvenking. He was obsessed with elves, just like every other hobbit, and desperately wanted to meet their king. _I imagine that he'll be the most elfy of them all!_ he thought.

* * *

"Ada, can you help me?" said Legolas, struggling to stack a third snowball onto his snowman. "It's too heavy for me to lift up by myself."

"Certainly not," said Thranduil. "I'll get my robes wet if I do that." He shivered fabulously, scooching a little closer to the the fire. "I'm only out here because Galion was freaking out. I don't intend to do anything but stay as comfortable as poss– by the Valar, _what_ is _that_?"

Thranduil and Legolas stared in horror as the party of dwarves approached, led by Bilbo. "Why, they're _dwarves_!" gasped Legolas, mouth hanging open in horror.

"Dwarves in my kingdom?" Thranduil rose majestically, cape flying out behind him. He drew his sword, which glittered fabulously in the winter sun. "I will not stand for it!"

Thorin growled, pushing past Bilbo. "I did not wish to come here, but your lackies forced me to, as well as the popular opinion of my party."

"Party?" demanded Thranduil, seeming taller than ever before. "PARTY? How dare you, a _dwarf_ , have a party? I am the Party-King of Mirkwood!"

"Lasgalen," whispered Legolas, gently elbowing Thranduil. "The Party-King of Lasgalen."

"I can have a party if I want to," said Thorin. "Just you try and stop me."

Bilbo could stand it no longer. "Be quiet Thorin!" he cried. "You're insulting an _elf_! It's horrible and immoral, and I won't stand for it. If we can't all get along, then I'm leaving the party."

"Don't leave the party!" protested Thranduil. "It hasn't even started, and you have the correct attitude towards elves, so I want you to stay."

"Yes," said Legolas, nodding vigorously. "I've never met one of your kind before. And I find dwarves very amusing. Please stay and enjoy the party."

Thorin tried to protest, but his voice was drowned out by the cheers of the very hungry and tired dwarves. The dwarf prince sighed, hanging his head. "No matter what, I'm never going to get you all to obey me, am I?'

"I don't think so," said Kili.

* * *

The entire party proceeded to go to the party.

Galion had calmed down by the time they arrived, and, with the extra and somewhat eager help of Elros, Tauriel, Feren, and Meludir, and the reluctant help of Lethuin, had managed to cook enough food to feed a few more guests, and managed to squeeze fourteen extra chairs into the banquet hall.

"Now, Thorin, this isn't so bad, is it?" asked Balin, amusedly watching Thorin devour a haunch of venison.

"It's horrible," said Thorin, wiping his mouth. "But the food is certainly much better than Rivendell, at least."

"I know!" exclaimed Galion, tripping over to the dwarves' table, a tired smile on his face. Thorin was unable to tell whether the butler's face was flushed from the Dorwinion wine, which was flowing freely that evening, or from the implicit compliment that his food had received. "Lindir always insists that salad and such is better, but we wood-elves know what real food is!" He giggled creepily.

"You need to sit down, Galion," said Elros the guard, striding over to the table. "I apologize," he said to the dwarves, pushing the stumbling butler along. "My brother Elrond would never have let the partying go this far… I'm afraid that my Lord Thranduil is a little… slack, in that respect."

Thorin blinked– he wasn't aware that Elrond had a wood-elf brother. Before he could question Elros' statement, however, the guard had already left.

At Thranduil's right hand, near the head of the table, Legolas stood. "I would like to make a toast," he said, "to Christmas, and to the wonderful times that we can have, celebrating with our new dwarven friends."

All the dwarves stood and cheered, holding up their empty glasses. Galion hurried over and filled them. Thranduil, most displeased with his son's words, decided to have a hissy fit, and poured his wine on the ground. Galion fainted.

"Yes, well," began Bilbo, holding up his glass as well, "I'm very glad that you invited us. This certainly isn't the best Christmas that I've ever had, but it's much better than I expected on this journey."

"Erm… thank you," said Legolas. "I'm glad that it's better than you thought it would be."

An awkward silence fell over the group, broken only by the occasional bite of something crunchy, or the periodical slurps of wine(the dwarves were mainly to blame for these interruptions).

"The party is over," announced Thranduil abruptly. "Sadly; we have run out of wine. Galion, go and send the empty barrels to Laketown, please."

"Yes, sire," said Galion, instantly recovering from his faint and racing down toward the cellar.

"I'll go help him," said Elros, and followed.

"So will we," said Bilbo and the dwarves. The entire party went down to the cellar… and the story becomes familiar from hereon out. Bilbo and the dwarves climbed into the barrels, sealed the lids, and were rolled through the barrel drop by cooperative elves. Thorin, although much displeased by the means that the party was using to travel, was overall fairly happy. The party had gone from being lost in the woods, cold and hungry, to being well on their way to Lake-Town, and, therefore, well on their way to the Lonely Mountain.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, Thorin!" yelled Bilbo through his barrel, over the rushing of the river.

"It was," bellowed Thorin, "but at least I'm not hungry anymore, and we aren't lost in the woods anymore."

"Not such a– ack!" Bilbo yelped as his barrel bumped into a rock. "Not such a bad Christmas after all."

"I suppose it wasn't terrible," agreed Thorin. "But it's nothing compared to the Christmases in Erebor. Why, did I ever tell you about the Christmases in Erebor? Well, let me tell you. In Erebor…"

* * *

Galion could hear a loud groan from down the river, as he hastened to clean up the already-clean cellar. He shook his head condescendingly at the poor attitude of the dwarves, assuming that they were complaining about the way that they were getting to Laketown. "And on Christmas!" he exclaimed.

The elves upstairs began singing. "Now bring us some figgy pudding…"

Galion shrieked. "I didn't make any figgy pudding! No one told me that I had to make figgy pudding! Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Calm down, old bean," said Feren, coming down into the cellar. "You didn't make figgy pudding, but you did make piggy pudding, which is ten times better."

Galion wiped tears from his face. "But they want _figgy_ pudding," he said plaintively.

"Well, people can afford to give a little leeway on Christmas," said Feren. "You know, being thankful for what they've got and all that."

"Perhaps," said Galion doubtfully. "Well, I'll bring them the piggy pudding, then."

And, in the spirit of all Christmas specials, as Galion and Feren brought the piggy pudding into the hall, the elves burst into song, singing "Deck the Halls", then going on to sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas". Of course, since these were Mirkwood elves singing these songs, the songs ended up being quite wild, with the elves acting out the parts of the song with great enthusiasm. Galion covered his ears as the twelve drummers drumming beat out twelve different tempos, and handed a bowl of piggy pudding to each elf.

Galion, once again in the spirit of Christmas specials, thought that it would be a good idea to say "Merry Christmas" to his prickly employer. He approached Thranduil with a bowl of piggy pudding. " _Merry_ Christmas," he said sappily…

… at the exact same time that Legolas looked up at Thranduil with starry eyes, saying, "This is the best Christmas ever, isn't it, Ada?"

Galion trudged away, mumbling about how nothing he did was ever appreciated. Thranduil looked down at Legolas. He smiled softly…

"No, son. It isn't."

* * *

 ** _Finis_**

 _Notes: The title of this story makes fun of of 80's and 90's Christmas specials on TV(and likely other decades too; I'm just most familiar with the Christmas specials of that era ;-)_

 _Also, the figgy/piggy pudding mix up is a joke from my family, where we purposely mix up those words in the song,"We Wish You a Merry Christmas"._

 _Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Thanks for reading! :D_


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